


modern day cold war

by vvoidknight



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/F, Five Stages of Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvoidknight/pseuds/vvoidknight
Summary: Zelda is dying. And if she gets her say, it will be entirely on her own terms.





	1. diagnosis

Settling down on an ornate stone bench, Link flinched at the bite of cold cement on his legs, woefully unprotected by the thin jeans he had picked out that morning. Fashion over function, he had decided and now regretted. He gazed around the park, both hating and enjoying how deserted it was on such a cold, early morning. The crisp autumn air did nothing to dissuade people from their homes and Link would have been in their ranks if his usual creeping discomfort hadn’t creeped up on him.

He pretended not to see the two men that had accompanied him to the neighborhood park. They stationed themselves at a “discreet” distance, but knowing they were there only to watch him made him prickle with unease. He tried to put it out of his mind and instead gave his surroundings the attention they deserved.

Shoving his hands between his thighs to warm them, he tipped his head back to stare at the overcast sky, pale blue and shot through with wispy gray clouds. Perhaps it would snow, he thought, imagining it would be a very pretty sight. He would have to drag Zelda out to take pictures for her aesthetic blog.

Briefly, he entertained the thought of just sitting where he was until it started to snow and snow and snow until he was buried, never to be seen from again. He wondered if he would be missed by anyone except for his best friend. Depressingly, he figured that the people that would note his passing could probably be counted on his fingers. Probably even on one hand.

A cough from somewhere nearby broke him from his morbid musings. If he showed himself to be unable to be trusted with his own safety, his bodyguards would just pick him up and take him back to Hyrule Manor where he would no doubt be berated by the king for his foolishness.

He had been read the riot act enough times to have the king’s particular favorite committed to mind and heart.

_You have more than yourself to think about_ , he mentally parroted, slumping in resignation. _Link, you very well may be the world’s only hope. You cannot endanger yourself recklessly._

But, Link thought bitterly, he was still allowed to die for them.

* * *

“You look tired,” Zelda commented. Link paused mid-strike and lowered his sword, turning to face his best friend. He nodded, setting his weapon down and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was glad to see her, as she was a much needed bright spot in an otherwise terrible day.

His sword instructor had only just left, leaving Link to practice alone in his private gym with only a dummy as company. His instructor was incredibly skilled, but he was also an awful brute. His proclivity to yelling after even the slightest misstep ensured that lessons always deteriorated into Link flinching and jumping at the littlest thing, nerves well and truly shot. Though he wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and curl up under the covers for the rest of the day, he persevered.

Dropping onto the floor, exhausted, he waved Zelda in. She took the invitation and moseyed over to survey the dummy with a critical eye.

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully, voice sounding very regal. “Yes, Link. I do believe you’ve killed him.”

Link snorted. Critical, he thought fondly, but untrained.

“I think,” Link began gravely, rotating his wrist to work out the tension and ache. “That if everyone were really interested in me defending the world from evil, they would give me a mech suit.”

“You’ve been watching _Pacific Rim_ again, haven’t you?” she teased, nudging his knee with her foot. She flounced over to the training dummy and leaned against it as she did with him, propping her elbow on its shoulder, also like she did with him. It was unfair how much taller she was, truly.

Without a thought, Link fished his phone out of his pocket and took a picture.

“You menace,” Zelda laughed, but didn’t wrestle him to delete it… this time.

“I’m just saying,” he said imploringly, stashing his phone back in his pocket and struggling to his feet. “I could do a lot of peace if they gave me a gun.”

“You’d scare yourself every time you fired,” Zelda declared. “But I bet we would be drift compatible, you know.”

“Absolutely.”

Zelda laughed and moved towards the door, blowing him a kiss. She called back, “I’m off to my doctor’s appointment. I’m trusting you to have everything set up for the best Ghibli marathon in history by the time I get home.”

“I already have the lineup,” Link said, smiling. “And you _know_ I’m the best at snacks.”

* * *

There weren’t many that still put any stock in the ancient struggle between good and evil anymore and even fewer of them believed that some ineffable, broken artifact was inherited by the same souls over. Still, they kept their stories and tales of morality.

Ungrateful children? Reminded that the world would be forever flooded in darkness if not for the light of the princess and the ever faithful hero. Layabouts? Reminded that the hero of legend always rose to the occasion, even when all hope seemed lost. Warmongers? Reminded that the peace in the realm was hard won and only the evil would sacrifice it.

The royal family, the Hyrule family, was largely a figurehead, but only fools would try them. Their power was still absolute when they decided to wield it and no one would question the family chosen by the goddess, even if they were mostly sure all of the legends were fantastical creations, not rooted in actual history in the least.

When a daughter was born to the royal family, they chose to name her Zelda in keeping with the tradition for first born daughters of the royal family. It was a nice gesture, respectful of the princess of legends, but no one expected anything from her. Not all Zeldas were _the_ Zelda, after all.

Then came the day she was presented to the world during the Festival of New Birth. Taken into the royal temple before the grand statue of the goddess to receive her blessings of good health, Zelda laughed all the way, ever a cheerful child. Her laughter did not cease, not when her hand lit up with a golden light, nor when the goddess’s statue began to weep.

* * *

Fresh out of the shower, Link contemplated his wardrobe choices. He knew that there were certain expectations of him when in the public eye and there was nothing more public than Zelda’s social media. She had a tendency to post cute moments hoping to make herself and Link more human to the people.

She would no doubt be wearing her Totoro kiguruki, but he had nothing like it. With a frown, he browsed through his pajamas until he found the blue and white set that the queen had gifted him for his last birthday. She had presented it to him with a small speech, extolling how appropriate the color scheme was and how it matched the fabled champion’s garb. Though it had seemed in some way familiar, he found that he only liked it for the lovely white branching designs on the collar of the blue shirt.

Unless you were to look very hard, you would entirely miss how there were actually birds peeking through the branches as well. In fact, he and Zelda actually had a longstanding disagreement over it. He could clearly see 18 birds in total while Zelda argued that there were 19. The oddly shaped splotch over his left shoulder was _clearly_ a bird, she would say and then tell him he was very silly to disagree.

Putting it on, he was struck with a fit of whimsy and took a moment to detour back to the bathroom to put his hair into a quick bun. Satisfied with it, he returned to his room and plundered his closet once again. It took him longer than it should have – Zelda was _always_ telling him to clean up – but he soon made a triumphant noise and brandished his treasure above his head.

It was a pinwheel, old and distressed. It never failed to bring a smile to his face, though everyone urged him to get rid of it, seeing it as nothing more than junk. He remembered the truth, though. It was a gift from a long departed friend. Link’s smile turned a little melancholy as he took a moment to reacquaint himself with the pinwheel.

After a long moment, he jabbed it into his bun as a kind of decoration before returning to the bathroom to avail himself of the mirror. Something about his reflection was familiar, like a word on the tip of ones tongue that just would not reveal itself. The sensation was maddening, but Link was well used to it. Sometimes he surprised himself, expecting to see someone older or younger or more scarred in the mirror.

He knew Zelda felt the same.

* * *

After the revelation that Princess Zelda was indeed an incarnation from legend, everyone was up in arms looking for the hero or the calamitous evil. Though she could not remember it now, her caretakers remember a time when she was still very young. She’d heard an agent of the crown bemoaning the difficulty of finding the hero of legend and promptly picked up her book, meandered over, and told him, “He’ll be along. Will you tell me what mischievous means?”

The frenzy of the search died down then. After all, who would know better than the inheritor of the Triforce of Wisdom when the hero of legend would reveal himself?

It all came to a head one day not long after the princess’s ninth birthday.

She’d given her bodyguard and caretakers the slip and had escaped the hullabaloo that accompanied her father’s visit to some politician or another to honor his birthday. She barely remembered the event now, but was very clear on the point that she intended to return as soon as she could.

It was the guards that found her first, however.

She was holding another child, smaller than her and uninterested in anything but crying. Seeing his hand glowing the same brilliant gold that Zelda’s did, the guards spirited both children back to the frantic royal family.

At the tender age of seven, Link lost his family in a house fire. Having run from the inferno, he was presumed dead initially. Many said he was lucky to have found the princess so soon while others said it was the goddess’s will. Upon seeing how his Triforce of Courage reacted with their daughter’s Triforce of Wisdom, the king and queen adopted him at once.

It was immediately made clear that he was not adopted as an act of love, however. Immediately he began his instruction in the way of the swordsman with private tutors to train him and instruct him on the long history of Hyrule. If there were evil in their world, the rulers wanted to ensure that the hero was ready at any cost.

After a week, Zelda began inviting herself into his lessons, abandoning her own. She kicked up such a fuss that the king and queen agreed to more intensive lessons for their daughter as well, though they would never let her pick up a sword. She had to content herself with a bow, knowing the historical precedent was the only reason she was allowed to learn to defend herself.

Through their intensive tutelage, the princess and the hero solemnly left their childhood behind to be ushered into legends.

* * *

Link had scarcely finished arranging the sushi when he heard someone approaching in the hall. He hopped up, surveying the snack spread with pride. He was sure Zelda would appreciate his hard work, having both the snacks and the first movie prepared. Glancing at the insulated lunch bag innocently sitting among the arrangement, he was satisfied that the unlawful party favor was suitably disguised in the event that the approaching party was not Zelda.

His caution was for naught, as it was in fact Zelda that barged into his room. He smiled a greeting, but one look at Zelda’s face had it falling off his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. Zelda’s eyes were watery (tears?) and her face thunderous. She didn’t spare him a glance and instead moved right around him to the lunch bag, wrestling it open to extract the bottle of vodka they’d stolen from the kitchen a few nights ago.

He heard another approaching his room and looked to his open door fearfully while Zelda unscrewed the bottle and tried to take a large gulp of the burning drink. She choked, coughing harshly as King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule descended upon Link’s room.

Link patted Zelda’s back ineffectually as the king stalked forward, growling, “Zelda, _compose_ _yourself._ ”

She clamped a hand over her mouth though her shoulders still shook with repressed coughs. Handing the bottle to Link, who could do nothing but take it and stare at it dumbly, she spun around and went to collapse on his bed. Link looked to the king in growing horror, absolutely sure he would be apoplectic with rage, but found that the man wasn’t even looking in his direction. The king brushed past him without a care as his daughter wriggled under the covers, pulling them over her head and curling up into the fetal position.

“Zelda,” he barked. “This is not in your best interest.”

Letting out a howl of frustration that was more suited to a beast than a princess, she yelled back, “Nothing I do _is_. Get out!”

“This is my house,” he said, temper easing back into the icy displeasure that they were more used to dealing with. “I may go anywhere I please. And you, Zelda, are my daughter. You cannot allow this to affect you in such a way.”

She sat up, fighting with the blankets to free her head so she might offer him her most withering of glared. In a furiously polite voice, she announced, “You are entirely correct, _Father_. I should not be upset over the news of my impending death. I am simply being irrational and hysteric.”

Link dropped the bottle, sending the contents spilling all over his meticulously arranged sushi platter.

“ _What_?”

* * *

“Stress could set it off,” she told him as they lie together in his bed. The movie marathon had been canceled, but there was never a time more appropriate in which to have a good old fashioned cuddle session. “They can’t do anything about it or they’ll risk setting it off.”

“It’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“It’s funny, in a way,” she said, sounding exhausted beyond caring. “I have the Triforce of Wisdom and its my brain that’s trying to kill me.”

Link squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to entertain the thought. He joked, “Maybe I should get my heart checked.”

“Is that where courage is stored?” she asked, sounding serious. “When you feel courageous, where do you think it comes from?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, snuggling closer and squeezing Zelda’s hand tighter. “I don’t think I’ve been brave in all my life.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered into his hair. “You’re the bravest person I know, putting up with my father and his stupid speeches and expectations all the damn time.”

“Then you’re braver than me,” Link said. “You even told him off today.”

Zelda was quiet, but she’d begun to tremble. Just as Link thought to change the subject, she said, “It’s sad that it took news of my death to stand up for myself.”

“You can’t die,” Link said, voice going worryingly unsteady. “You just can’t.”


	2. denial

At first, nothing seemed to have changed. On the surface everything was the same with Zelda still attending all of her lessons and posting on her social media periodically. The news of her brain aneurysm was kept under wraps with only the royal family and a select few other in the know.

But Link could see the edges fraying. He couldn’t count how many times he came across members of the royal family or the staff staring sadly into space or crying over something of Zelda’s or even just watching the princess, downcast. He wanted to scream that Zelda was _not_ dying any time soon.

“Father is talking about holding another summit here in Castle Town,” Zelda said, bringing her cup to her lips and sipping delicately. She looked ridiculously put together, makeup perfect and outfit fussed over for no less than an hour. It was her first public appearance since her diagnosis and she seemed intent on making sure no one could see the malady hidden in her skull.

Link hummed and took another bun. They were filled with cranberries and glazed with honey and, if he were honest, his favorite comfort food even though if anyone else asked he would name ice cream, just as Zelda did. They reminded him of… something. A time before.

(He knew Zelda’s favorite food was monster soup, but he couldn’t recreate it faithfully without any monster extract. Trying to remember how it was made or who even made it gave Link stress induced migraines, but sometimes he still tried.)

“There’s a drought in Lanayru, if you can believe it,” she continued, setting her tea down. She took a moment to smile and wave at a little girl being toted through the market when the girl stared at her with wide eyes, no doubt recognizing the princess for who she was. “And for whatever reason, there have been storms in Eldin that have caused a lot of floods.”

“We could go to Eldin instead,” Link said quietly, brightening at the thought. “Or Akkala.”

“Akkala hasn’t shown any odd weather,” Zelda said. “And no one in their right mind would take you to Eldin; you would just slip away and go get lost in the Great Forest.”

Link smiled guiltily.

“It was unfair of the goddess to reincarnate you in someone that was born so far from the forest. Maybe the goddess should have made you a deer this time around,” Zelda joked, helping herself to a plain roll and the cherry jam.

“I think this time around we both got the short end of the stick,” he murmured, eyes lowering to his plate.

Zelda paused, roll halfway to her mouth. Sighing, she set it down and wiped her fingers on her napkin primly. “We can’t talk about that here, Link.”

“I don’t think we can talk about it anywhere,” he admitted, throat already threatening to close up with tears.

Zelda frown, looking down at her cherry slathered roll.

* * *

“What do you think is causing the weather eccentricities?” Zelda asked, interrupting the quiet of the room. Link looked up from the blade he had been sharpening and found that he had to brush his hair back again, as most of it had fallen out of its ponytail.

“You’re asking me?” he clarified. Zelda turned away from the window where she had been watching rain fall over the town.

“Yes. You.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m just the brawn in all of this, remember?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Zelda scolded him. She came to sit beside him and took his hair band to tie his dirty blonde hair back herself. “I hate that we’ve been forced into this stupid molds that don’t even fit us.”

Link made a miserable noise.

“Well, you’re very courageous,” she allowed. “But I’m far, far from wise. I know that everyone at the summit will be looking to me to make some good points and… contribute in some way. But I know nothing of the weather. I haven’t even been allowed to leave Castle Town for most of my life.”

“They want us safe,” he reminded her even though he too was withering under the near imprisonment they endured under the guise of safety.

“They want to keep us safe until we can sacrifice ourselves for them,” she said hotly. “We aren’t _people_ to them, just legends and legends don’t complain. I’m sick to death of it! I’m tired, Link, and I know that you are too.”

“Zelda,” he began, unsure. “You have to stay calm.”

She froze for a long moment. “There it is again. You keep bringing it up.”

“I have to,” he insisted. He turned to look her in the eyes, saying, “I don’t want you to die.”

“Yes,” she said distantly. “That would be very inconvenient for the prophecy. I have to live to seal the corrupter, after all.”

“Shut up,” he said, eyes beginning to burn with tears. “Zelda, shut up. You know I don’t give a damn about any prophecy or about being trained to fight or anything else. I just can’t lose my best friend.”

After another pause, she set aside his hair band and drew him into a tight hug. Whispering quietly, she said, “The goddess won’t let me actually die. I _do_ have to live to seal Ganon.”

Link shut his eyes tight and prayed that it was true.

* * *

The morning of the first day of the summit saw Link donning his best ceremonial armor. He was expected to preside over the talks as a silent protector as if there were any actual threat that may come to them that only he could prevent. Just as he was about to emerge from his room, Zelda once again barged in with the king following close behind.

Something in him, some kind of muscle memory had him standing perfectly at attention at the king’s arrival, but once again he was ignored in favor of a father-daughter clash of wills.

“Link,” Zelda greeted, aggravation in her tone. “Do you think I should attend the summit?”

He had no idea what answer she was fishing for and from the look on her face, the wrong one would be disastrous. He froze as surely as a deer in the headlights would.

Bizarrely, it was the king that saved him. “Zelda, it is not his decision to make. It is mine and I say that you are not to attend.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she snapped.

“You don’t need the added stress,” he pressed on stubbornly. “It isn’t good for your condition.”

Zelda screamed. A proper, blood curdling scream that had guards rushing into Link’s room that, for once had been cleaned up. Link was thankful for the small mercies of the world.

“I’m not going to die from this,” she yelled. “And if you’re so worried about my delicate condition, you wouldn’t be trying to stress me out at every turn _yourself_.”

“Enough,” he said. “Link, with me.”

The king turned and exited the room, waving the guards out as well. Link hesitated for a moment, looking back at his best friend, but she would not return his gaze. Feeling terrible, Link fled his own room to follow the king.

* * *

The leaders did not stop their bickering and blaming until late into the night, at which time Link _finally_ was allowed to drag himself back to his room, not even taking the time to return his ceremonial sword to its place of honor in his personal gym. Instead, he made directly for his bed, knowing that his day would repeat tomorrow and he would be required to stand before the summit just as long as he had today.

He was flicking on the light in his room when he remembered Zelda. Particularly when his eyes fell on the envelope left on his perfectly made bed (that had not been perfectly made when he left that morning). Tossing his sheathed sword down on the bed, he lifted the envelope to find his name neatly written on it in Zelda’s handwriting.

Opening it yielded a handmade card crafted from thick paper and her nice calligraphy inks.

“Link,” she wrote. “If you are as fucking tired of living this parody of legends as I am, meet me in the garage at midnight.”

Link smiled at how bright red ink embellished “fucking” and then frowned. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket, only allowed because the royal uniform jacket covered it. He had two hours before he had to meet Zelda, for he knew that he would be accompanying Zelda wherever she chose to wander.

Something about the letter made him wary. The tone made it seem like an upheaval was coming and, truthfully, he wasn’t sure he was ready. He set the letter aside and looked at the ceremonial sword. Running a finger down the hilt, he thought.

This wasn’t a life meant for him or any of his other… selves. There was something at the edge of his awareness, some knowledge that his life was meant to be _more_.

Link turned from the bed and went to shower.

* * *

“You came,” Zelda said, looking relieved. “I didn’t know if you would.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said, dropping his backpack by the car that Zelda was leaning against. “Of course I would. Where you go, I go.”

“Zelda and Link,” she said, smiling. “Together throughout all of history.”

“You’d think that I’d have learned better by now,” he joked, leaning beside her. Immediately their hands intertwined.

“I’m too much of a bully,” she said lightly. “And too much of an idiot. Or maybe that title falls to you for following me.”

“I prefer to claim it’s just courage,” he said, smiling up at her. “We’re leaving then?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding resolutely. “Ah, but I guess it’s technically running away in your case.”

Zelda was 19. Link was 17.

“My birthday is in two months,” he said stubbornly. She laughed and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

“Sure it is, kiddo,” she jeered. Link stuck his tongue out at her and she did the same.

* * *

After packing away everything in the trunk, Zelda shooed Link into the passenger seat. Stubbornly, she insisted, “I’m a better driver and you’ve been awake all day, so you should get some sleep.”

“If I’m running away, I’m not letting you give me bedtimes,” he told her. “You can drive, but I’m not going to sleep.”

Zelda huffed, but took what she could get. It was easy enough to get out of the castle as the guards were well used to the two of them making midnight runs for food or ingredients. In less than ten minutes they were exiting Castle Town heading east.

“Where are we going?” Link asked, seeing signs flash by quicker than he was used to. “And how fast are you going?”

“As fast as I want to,” Zelda answered, a touch smug. “I thought we might go to Eldin. I want to visit Death Mountain and you can run off to the Great Forest.”

“Death Mountain,” he repeated, brightening. “We’re going to see _Gorons_. Not just their stuffy old leader, but actual Gorons.”

Zelda laughed at his tone, speeding towards their self-crafted future and away from their gilded cage.

* * *

The next morning found the two parked at a Tokay Cafe, Zelda enjoying a coffee and a bagel while Link slept in the backseat. Her phone was positively nuclear with missed calls and unanswered texts and she was sure that Link’s was the same.

She smiled, checking the news to find that she was the top story of the day.

She opened each of her social media apps and posted the same message.

“I’ve decided that I need to go on a spiritual and cultural pilgrimage, unhindered by politics. I am entirely well looked after by the champion of legend. There is no reason to worry. I love you all.”

Putting her phone away, she bit into her bagel feeling like she was finally,  _finally_ on the right track.


	3. anger

Traveling to Death Mountain meant a significant change in wardrobe which found them stopping at a cute little town at the base of the volcano. Really, Link, it’s interesting that the location wasn’t called Death Volcano given that’s precisely what it is, Zelda liked to mention at the drop of a hat. Link listened every time she went off on that tangent, but really, it’s just a name, Zelda.

They spent the better part of an hour browsing the small boutique that boasted a number of heat resistant charms and clothes. There was one outfit that Link privately liked the look of that was modeled after typical Gerudo wear, but he didn’t think he could get away with purchasing it without a significant amount of heckling from Zelda.

He wistfully ran his hand down the flowy material before moving on.

There was a set of armor that Zelda urged him to buy that was modeled after the armor that the Champion wore climbing Death Mountain so many years ago. It looked awful, he told her without disguising his disgust, and stuffy besides. While Zelda moved on, he took a moment to indulge in the odd sadness that came with a half-memory.

He didn’t feel particularly courageous. He wondered if his past incarnations were somehow disappointed in him.

He turned away and buried that thought away for another day.

In the end, the two of them ended up selecting a set of clothes in a glossy material that the owner assured them was entirely flameproof. Zelda also picked a small talisman that increased a person’s heat tolerance exponentially. Link picked up a pair of earrings, small fire opals set in gold. The owner explained that they somehow drew the heat out of the wearer, but Link stopped paying attention when he caught sight of Zelda’s smiling face.

This was the most carefree he’d seen her… ever.

Of course, as with most good things it was not to last.

As Zelda went to pay, her card was declined. Embarrassed, she tried again. And then an impatient third.

“Excuse me,” the owner, a Hylian, said slowly. “But, ah… Aren’t you the princess?”

Zelda clearly couldn’t find the words. Link stepped up and asked, “Can you try mine?”

His card was set up by Zelda’s late nursemaid, so the king couldn’t easily halt those funds. Sure enough, the payment was accepted and he was ushering a stony-faced Zelda from the establishment to where their car was parked a few streets over.

Link had only just begun to fear that Zelda wasn’t going to regain her faculties in time to drive when she shook herself as if coming to life. To Link, she curtly ordered, “Just put those in the back. I need to get out of here for a second.”

Link dumped the clothes in the back seat, but pocketed the jewelry, fearing the items would only get lost. He was barely in his seat when Zelda pulled away, driving… oddly responsibly. Silently she drove out of the town.

Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he blurted, “There’s an abandoned mine up there.”

He knew there was, but could not attribute the knowledge to any of his studies or maps he’d looked at. Zelda sped up and smiled.

“Perfect,” she declared. Her smile was not nice.

* * *

Link knew that the slightest thing could set Zelda on the path to death, the smallest bit of stress or even nothing at all. Watching her now, he was sure that Death Mountain was well of its way to claiming another life.

Still, he reflected as he sat on the hood of the car with his fire opal earrings in his ears, there was a savage beauty to Zelda’s rage as she repeatedly slammed the pickax into the rocks, over and over. Her hair flew around her in a golden halo where it wasn’t plastered to her sweaty face. Stealthily, he snapped a picture.

“They don’t give a shit,” she growled like a wild thing. “If they can’t be on hand to manage me, what good am I? Maybe I’ll just fucking starve to death and they can rest easier knowing their daughter won’t be there to trouble them.”

Or they just hoped to force her back home, Link thought. He rested his chin in his hands and did not offer his opinion.

“I just,” she bit out, staggering back and surveying the rubble around her looking for another target. “I just _hate_.”

She spun around, the pickax carving a deadly arc through the air as her hair flared around her head. Her bright blue eyes stared accusingly at him. She had a smudge from her forehead to her cheekbone from when she scooped her hair out of her eyes earlier.

“Don’t you?”

* * *

Given the scarcity of their funds, Zelda quietly suggested sleeping in the car for the night as she rubbed at her skin, tacky with dried sweat. Link agreed for lack of a better option, so their night found Zelda splayed across the front seats with Link in the back.

“I need a shower,” Zelda declared miserably, the very picture of tiredness. Link struggled upright and moved between the seats where the air conditioner would blow on him.

“I have a bottle of water,” he suggested seriously. She laughed, but it was sad. “I do. I’ll stand on the car and pour it over you.”

“I think I’ll have to pass,” Zelda told him, opening her eyes to smile thankfully at him. “You might need it later.”

“But you need it now.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the window, a hand going to cover her eyes. She mumbled, “Thank you for being here with me.”

Link moved back to his reclined position, telling her, “I’d like to see you keep me away.”

* * *

When Zelda slept, she generally slept the deep sleep of the long dead. Link, however, was always a cricket’s chirp from consciousness. It was a terrible burden, losing his sleep, but he at least had the consolation that he would never miss a second of excitement.

If asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain why he awoke that night, but he was glad that he did.

He sat up and blearily looked up, noting the sky was only just starting to lighten in the distance. More importantly, the volcano was flaring up brighter and brighter. For a moment, he was worried of an eruption, but remembered the years and years of magic inlaid in the rock that kept it from flowing into the lowlands.

So he shoved his shoes back on and slipped out of the car into the deserted mine. He wavered, not wanting to go far from his best friend, but also incredibly curious. The curiosity won, as it usually did and he began wandering, promising himself that he would keep a direct line of sight to the car.

He knew the place was scorching, but it was a little hard to conceptualize it as he jump ominously glowing crevasses. Given how bright it was, he couldn’t say what attracted his attention to the dull glow down in one of the previously dark caverns. He cast an anxious look back at the car, wondering if he should wake Zelda or just abandon the cavern entirely.

He could just creep down and get a quick peek, he rationalized and guiltily slunk down the slope to the curve of the cave. Taking cover behind a rusting mining cart, he edged around until he could see what was going on.

There were three Gorons surrounding a small fire. One seemed to be tending to the coals, Link surmised. Another had some kind of drum that he was fiddling with while the last stood nearby, tapping his foot impatiently. Link was amazed.

“Hurry up,” the impatient Goron commanded, voice like a rock slide. “You always take so long, Onah.”

“You’re welcome to do it yourself,” the other suggested loftily, giving the drum an experimental bang. From the way his face scrunched up, it didn’t seem to be right.

Link, entranced by the Goron with the drum (Onah?), didn’t see the acting chef look up and spot him in the low light. He smiled brightly and stood, calling, “Brothers, it looks like we have a guest here!”

Link startled and almost ran, but some sense of loyalty made him rise. Nostalgia and fondness rushed over him, both his and not. He smiled back and edged from behind the cart.

_Brother_ . One of his titles, he knew, but not one that left him feeling so heavy that he couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, you look familiar,” Onah said, squinting. The impatient one turned and squinted at him before crowing triumphantly.

“The Hylian Champion,” he grinned, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I’ve seen your likeness in the tales of our Champion.”

“No, dummy,” the chef scolded. “He’s not the same one. Right?”

“I was reborn,” Link said. His hand flexed beside him, missing the weight of a weapon in it. “But I was, uh, the Hylian Champion.”

“Well, then you’re still an honorary brother,” the not so impatient Goron announced. “I’m Huno and these are Onah and Durar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Link told them. “I, uh, am traveling with the princess too.”

“The more the merrier,” Onah said cheerfully. He gave the drum another experimental bang and seemed happier with the result. “Oh, you must be good luck. Go and find your princess and we can all share our feast!”

“Hylians don’t eat rocks,” Durar explained, sounding a touch exasperated. To Link, he assured him, “We have some food that you can eat, though. Meat is safe for Hylians, isn’t it?”

Link nodded and dashed out of the cavern and back to the car where Zelda slept. He banged the window until Zelda finally groaned at him to stop. She glared at him, rubbing her eyes while she rolled her window down. Grouchily, she asked, “What is it?”

“Gorons,” he said, excitement creeping up in his voice. “Come on, they want us to hang out with them.”

“What?” she asked, already opening the door and rolling up the window responsibly. She was struggling to keep up with him. “You found Gorons?”

“They’re in one of the caves,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “They knew me from the legends, but like… not in a bad way.”

“Lead the way,” Zelda commanded him, excitement catching.

* * *

Link and Zelda danced among the embers until the sky lit with the breaking day.


End file.
